Nostalgia
by BlueberryNails
Summary: Oneshot. A peek at Hazel's life in the aftermath.


Disclaimer: If I owned this story, then I wouldn't even have to write this sad epilogue in the first place.

Hi guys! This is my first fanfic ever. I wrote this like a year ago, but only gotten now to post it on this site ^^

* * *

**'****What else? She is so beautiful. You don't get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.'**

**I do, Augustus.**

**I do.**

* * *

It's been a week since I read Augustus' letter to Van Houten. I have the printed out copies in my hands, all crumpled and its ink smudged from the tears I had shed from all the nights I stayed up rereading it. When the original copies arrived, I kept it safe by hiding it at the bottom of my drawer. When I first handled it I couldn't help but burst into tears, and my mother rushed into the living room.

"Hazel!" She calls out to me, running into the room. When she saw me holding the envelope to my chest, she sat next to me and hugged me.

On the same day I woke up in the middle of the night. I got up and opened the envelope and reread the letter. It had the exact same words on the copies Lidewij scanned for me. The same messy handwriting and the same different colors of ink.

I inhaled the pages, hoping a hint of his scent was there.

It just smelled of paper.

I went to Support Group the next day. Isaac was there. I haven't talked to him since I first finished reading the letter. I called him when I did, and he asked if I was dying (he was being literal, apparently I sounded like a dying whale when I cried)

He once again invited me to play Counterinsurgence 2: The Price of Dawn, but I declined, having other plans. Besides, I didn't really play like Augustus. I knew that he really missed how Augustus would sacrifice himself to buy the virtual school children time, even if it ended his game.

_'__I bought them a minute. Maybe that's the minute that buys them an hour, which is the hour that buys them a year. No one's gonna buy them forever, Hazel Grace, but my life bought them a minute. And that's not nothing.'_

* * *

My mom dropped me off at the Crown Hill Cemetery, where Augustus was buried. I found Augustus' grave. The earth wasn't mounded around his coffin this time, and he had a headstone now.

Seeing the headstone gave me a sense of finality that there is no more Augustus Waters in the flesh. There was only a decaying corpse somewhere beneath my feet, memories that brought heartache now, and his letter that smelled only of paper.

And it struck me that what Augustus feared—oblivion—was half way done to erase him completely. What was left of him was in us, in those who loved him and cared for him.

In those who will soon also disappear from this world.

And when we disappear, Augustus will too.

Forever.

Feeling woozy from all the thoughts, I take a seat just a few inches away from the slightly fresh earth. "Gus," I say, running my fingers through the soft tufts of the grass.

Hazel Grace, I expect him to say, but all I heard was silence.

"I would've loved to find out what happened to Anna, in your version." I start, my throat closing up at once. Maybe it was because I was a week near my period, or maybe because I missed him, but I couldn't stop the hot tears that spilled down my cheeks. I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply so as to calm down and actually talk to Gus.

I had cried for him enough in the past week anyways.

"I wonder if you let Sisyphus lived, and I wonder if the Dutch Tulip Man really is a conman." I smile at the ground, and I feel my lip quiver so I bite it down hard that it left a telltale metallic taste in my mouth. "I miss you, Gus." I manage to say without breaking down.

"I remember the time you kissed me in the Anne Frank house, and we fell in love in the hotel." I closed my eyes, seeing the memories run by like I was watching a movie. And then it occurred to me that I don't remember much already. I could still see his smile and that light of happiness in his eyes, but I couldn't remember the memories play-by-play. They were only glimpses of his face and words. I couldn't remember the taste of his lips or the way his voice sounded when he said my name.

I stayed silent for a while with my eyes closed, praying to anyone who was out there listening to give me back those memories.

Nothing.

"Remember that swing set we sold? I wonder if it really got the butts it wanted." I laughed to myself so that I wouldn't start crying at my unanswered prayer. I was slightly relieved that I could still remember what we named it. _'Lonely, Vaguely Pedophilic Swing Set Seeks The Butt of Children'._ But my chest feels heavy and my laugh sounds forced to my own ears.

I recounted all the moments I had with him. How he said he feared oblivion when I first met him in Support Group to the saying of eulogies in the Literal Heart of Jesus eight days before his death.

And just before I start talking about what happened after his death, my voice drifted away with the wind. I breathe in deeply, tears rolling down my cheeks even if I wasn't blinking. Then I got my voice back, and somehow managed to tell him how life was like after he left.

But I couldn't tell him that his loss haunted me even in my sleep, suffocating me with its heavy truth.

I couldn't tell him that I was starting to forget about him. About his scent and his taste and the way his voice would say my name. I could imagine, but I knew that it was different in my head.

I couldn't tell him that I was starting to get bad again. That my condition's getting worse.

Because I was here to talk to make him happy. To make _me _happy. Which is the most ironic thing in the world because _he's dead and I'm crying_.

And then it was all over and I was quiet and he was quiet and the wind was quiet. Everything was eerily quiet.

I was once told that if you die, there was nothing but silence.

I wonder if it was this kind of silence—this roaring, deafening silence that makes me want to scream to get a little peace of mind.

I wonder if Gus is having this kind of silence.

"Please." I say quietly, breaking the intangible silence. "Say something."

I close my eyes, feeling the wind caress my skin. I shiver, and I feel like Augustus is sitting across me, staring at me like he always does.

_'__Because you're beautiful. I enjoy looking at beautiful people, and I decided a while ago not to deny myself the simpler pleasures of existence.' _

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I took it out and saw my mom's text, telling me that she's waiting by the gate. I get up and pull my oxygen cart next to me. I turn around to leave, but I found myself looking back at his headstone. "And by the way, I do like my choice."

I smiled, my lips quivering once more. My eyes blurred with tears, and for a moment, my movements stilled because I thought I saw Augustus, leaning against his headstone, looking at me silently with sad eyes. But then I blink and he was gone, and I smile once more, at him this time.

"I do, Augustus. I do."

And then the wind blows in answer and I _know _he's here. Because I could hear him whisper into my ear fleetingly.

"Okay."

I nod, my lips tugging into a smile.

"Okay."


End file.
